


Common Ground

by FreshBrains



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Community: 100_men, Community: comment_fic, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Dom/sub, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sub Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do I <i>want</i> from you? Well, isn’t <i>that</i> the million dollar question,” Tony huffs, hips still working Steve deep, still driving him insane. “I think we’ve established that our wants and needs are a touch more different than we’d ever imagined." The words ring true even as they sting. “But that’s in the past.” He pauses, leaning down to kiss Steve, lick into his mouth, <i>devour</i> him. “Right, babe?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common Ground

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ comment_fic prompt [Steve/any male, Steve has trouble admitting his submissive side](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/720450.html?thread=95103554#t95103554) and the LJ 100_men prompt #77: [Want](http://fresh-brainss.livejournal.com/6514.html).

“What are you so afraid of?”

Steve’s eyes fly open; he removes his hands from the strong planes of Tony’s back. “How can you ask me that?” This is not a new position for them—Steve on his back, hips in Tony’s lap, back arched and neck tipped back for Tony’s lips. This is comfortable, the way they end up together—perhaps the only comfortable thing about their relationship these days.

But after all they’ve been through, they don’t need to _speak_.

Tony just looks down at him, brow furrowed. “I mean it. You think I’m trying to psych you out here, Cap? You think I’m making a play?” He’s still _inside_ Steve, his presence looming and large, but his hands have stilled on Steve’s hips, fingers digging bruises into the fast-healing flesh. “Tell me.”

“I don’t need to tell you anything,” Steve says, frustrated. He almost says _stop_ , almost tells Tony to get off him, get out of his apartment, out of his _life_ , but they both know that’s not going to happen. He throws an arm over his eyes, feeling his face and neck flush red.

“Steve,” Tony says, and his voice is soft, commanding. He circles Steve’s wrist in his hand and takes his arm away from his eyes, pressing it to the mattress above Steve’s head.

Unbidden alarm bells go off in Steve’s head—he’s caged, pressed, pushed, at Tony’s mercy. And yet, his cock is hard and wet where it’s trapped between him and Tony. “What do you want from me?”

“What do I _want_ from you? Well, isn’t _that_ the million dollar question,” Tony huffs, hips still working Steve deep, still driving him insane. “I think we’ve established that our wants and needs are a touch more different than we’d ever imagined.” The words ring true even as they sting. “But that’s in the past.” He pauses, leaning down to kiss Steve, lick into his mouth, _devour_ him. “Right, babe?”

A dirty shiver runs down Steve’s spine, and he has an _urge_ —an urge to just forget it all, just give it all up, roll over on his belly and give Tony something warm and pliant and wet to plow into. He can’t give Tony what he really wants. He never could. His mind wanders to fountain pens, to frowns in boardrooms, to the disappointment behind Tony’s eyes.

He never faltered. He held tight to his convictions. He reaches up, ready to wrap his arms around Tony’s neck and roll them over so he’s on top, but Tony just shakes his head.

“Not this time,” he says, and his voice is so _soft_ , even, betraying nothing. “You don’t want that. I can tell. Just _tell_ me I’m wrong.” His hands catch Steve’s, warm palms squeezing his wrists.

And Steve just _melts_. “You’re not wrong,” he whispers, voice husky and garbled from trapping his moans in his throat.

“So,” Tony says, and then slips his hips down as he thrusts, hitting Steve in the spot that makes him see stars. “Tell me. What are you so afraid of, right here, right now? In this bed?” He presses a hard kiss to the hollow of Steve’s throat and bites a line of bruises right up to his jaw, his chin. “Why are you shaking right now like you’re about to explode?”

Steve feels like he’s sinking deeper into the bed, like the silk sheets and the too-soft-to-be-real comforter is folding him in, warm and safe. “I don’t want to…” he starts, and the words are tight in his throat.

Tony shifts down so his elbow bracket Steve’s head, pinning him in place. He thrusts short and hard, cock barely moving inside of Steve. “Come on. Tell me.”

Steve buries his face in Tony’s neck to inhale the spicy scent of him, the smell that’s always mixed with oil and metal and a little bit of smoke. “I don’t want to lose control,” he whispers, lips wet against Tony’s skin. He squirms, trying to get Tony deeper inside of him. He wants Tony to take over, to run the show…but he doesn’t want to lose himself.

_Maybe I don’t know what the hell I want_.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony says, cradling Steve’s head in his palm, bringing him up for a kiss. “I think that ship has sailed.”


End file.
